Mr. Darlington's Ex Wife

Chapter 2

AMARA'S POV:

“Dad, I don’t want to go to the city. I don’t want to marry a city man,” I protested. Tears were gathering in my eyes.

My father stood up from the blue couch. He was a tall, dark-skinned man, unlike my mother and me, who were both light-skinned.

My father sighed and said, “Amara, we are not disowning you. You will always be our daughter, but you have to start your own family to give your mother and me grandchildren. We don't want you to leave us, but we cannot trust everyone here to look after you. Your mother and I decided that it would be best for you to go to the city, where you will be truly loved and not taken advantage of by greedy people who may be pretending to care about you just to gain favor from us.”

“Dad!” Tears poured from my eyes like water from a tap, and my mother stood up and walked toward me.

“Amara, you don’t have to cry. I can assure you that the Briggs family are good people, and Joshua is my childhood friend. You will be treated well when you eventually get to his family house,” my father assured me, and I was left speechless.

I had been to the city before to further my education and study accounting. But I didn’t like city life. I had never envisioned myself living there or embracing the social and competitive lifestyle people led there. I love my peace, and that is all that matters to me.

“It’s okay. Come, let us go outside and see the fireworks. It will be New Year soon,” my mother said, pulling me gently into an embrace.

“Mom, I am not interested in seeing the fireworks. I am not happy about all this. How can you and Father decide my life for me like this?” I asked my mother. She let out an exasperated sigh, and my father left us in his home office.

“I understand your feelings, but you should know that your father wants the best for you,” my mother told me.

“Dad want the best for me by forcing me to marry his best friend’s son? I cannot go to the city tomorrow, Mom. You should help me speak to my father again, to cancel all this and allow me to stay here,” I protested, and my mother sighed.

“It’s okay. Stop crying. Come, let us go outside,” she urged, gently pulling me to walk with her.

My mother and I were of similar height. We were both tall, though not as tall as my father. We had blue eyes and long blonde hair.

I sighed and followed my mother outside to watch the fireworks while my mind raced with countless thoughts, wondering how my new husband would look.

I could not believe I was a married woman now. But this was not the marriage I had dreamed of.

I had hoped to walk down the aisle in a long white wedding dress, with a veil covering my head, and to be officially joined to my husband in the presence of my parents.

How could I be told one night that the next day I would go to a man’s house to become his wife? A man I had never seen in all my life, even though I had grown up in the countryside.

Where is that done?

I swallowed my nervousness and dried my face. I saw my aunt and the rest of my family members outside our home. They all looked joyful, except for me. No matter how I used the white handkerchief my mother had lent me to wipe my face, I was sure it still looked red and swollen from too much sobbing.

While others were happy and joyful, I was in turmoil and unhappy about my parents’ decision. I had no choice but to follow the path they wanted me to follow. They were my guardians, after all, and if I did not obey them, I might face many challenges in life. But I was not brave enough to disobey them.

I sighed while watching the fireworks, and I cheered myself up by telling myself that I was only married and that it was not the end of my life.

After 12 a.m., it became a brand-new day—a new year, a new beginning, and me as a new married woman.

My parents and I went back into my father’s house, while my aunties and uncles returned to their nearby homes after wishing us a Happy New Year.

My mother’s younger sister, Juliet Donald, walked up to me. She was over 40 years old and the only sister my mother had. She resembled my mother, with the same face, pointed nose, and sparkling blue eyes that shimmered hopefully. She had two daughters, and they were both younger than me.

“Amara, what’s wrong? I noticed you weren’t looking very cheerful,” she asked just as I walked into the living room to go upstairs to my bedroom.

“I am fine, ma. I just feel overwhelmed by New Year’s Day,” I lied. I could not tell her that I was married. Who would believe me? They had not witnessed my marriage, and I think my mother had not informed her yet, even though they discussed such matters often.

“Are you sure you are fine?” my aunt asked again. I nodded and replied, “Yes, Aunt. I am good. I have to go upstairs now,” I said, wanting to walk away from her.

She sighed and told me, “Whatever is troubling you, you should pray about it and not allow it to weigh you down, okay?”

“Okay, Aunt.” I nodded just as I saw my mother step out of the kitchen. She smiled at us and told her sister, “Amara will be fine. She’s going to the city tomorrow to her husband’s house.”

“What?” My aunt looked stunned. She turned quickly to look at my mother, who looked beautiful despite the late hour. Mom was still glowing brightly like the sun.

“You don’t mean it, Julianne. You mean your daughter is married, and we don’t know about it? When? How?” my aunt questioned, but my mother sighed and gave the cup of water she was holding back to Agnes to return to the kitchen.

“It’s a long story, Juliet. But it is for Amara’s own good. Don’t worry, she is our daughter, and she will be fine,” my mother assured her only younger sister. Then she walked toward me.

“Come, Amara. Let us go to your room and pack some of your things. It will soon be morning, and the driver will be here on time to take you to your husband’s house. Good night, sister,” my mother said to her younger sister, before turning back to me.

I felt like crying and protesting again, but I knew I was an obedient girl, so I allowed my mother to wrap her arm around my shoulder while she escorted me back to my room upstairs.